


The Star-Crossed Lovers From District Twelve

by LadyConstellation



Series: AU Yeah August 2020 [11]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Gen, Human Kwami, Hurt Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Protective Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, star-crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25859959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyConstellation/pseuds/LadyConstellation
Summary: August Eleventh Prompt: Star-Crossed LoversMarinette had saved Adrien's life by giving him burned bread, and now he was going to have to either watch her die or kill her himself. The Hunger Games are no place for owing debts or having friends, but somehow the baker's daughter has found a place in Adrien's heart. It really is a shame at least one of them is going to end up dead.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Plagg, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: AU Yeah August 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862911
Comments: 5
Kudos: 57





	The Star-Crossed Lovers From District Twelve

The first time Adrien really paid attention to the baker’s daughter was three months after her mother passed away. The first month after that cold January day, they had been supplied with enough food to scrape by, but after that, his father was expected to go back to work. However, something in their mother’s death seemed to break him, and no amount of begging from either Adrien or his younger brother Félix could snap him out of his memories. 

It was then, when Adrien was only a few weeks from turning twelve– old enough to sign up for the tesserae that would feed his family– that Adrien was wandering around the back of shops that served District Twelve’s wealthier citizens. If he could find something in a trash can– just enough so that his family would survive long enough to receive tesserae, then they would be safe. So he wandered around in the pouring rain, looking in empty bin after empty bin until he was at the bakery’s back door. 

He had rifled through the trash bins– surely there would be something, bread or pastries not deemed fit for sale, but again, there was nothing. 

It was then that the back door opened, and the baker’s wife stepped out her eyes cold and arms crossed. 

“Move along,” She hissed, shooing him away, “I’ll have no more Seam brats pawning through my trash today,” 

It was then, as Adrien backed away as he collapsed against the apple tree by their pig pen, that Adrien saw the blue-eyed girl peering out from behind her mother. She was quickly shoved back inside, but he recognized her from school. 

When he finally realized that he would have no food to bring home, no way of sustaining his family until his birthday, he heard a clamor in the bakery. The mother was screaming again and Adrien wondered if the girl was going to be okay before she walked out, carrying two burnt loaves of bread. 

“Feed it to the pigs, you clumsy girl! No one is going to want to buy burnt bread!” 

The door slammed shut behind the angry woman as the young girl glanced around, as if to make sure no one was watching. She began tearing off small pieces to feed to the pigs before loaves landed at Adrien’s feet and the baker’s daughter disappeared back inside. 

Filled with new hope, Adrien wandered back home, served the bread, and began hunting. His mother had been able to hunt with a spear, and had taught Adrien the basics before she had died. 

Some of her spears were still hidden around the woods, and Adrien quickly taught himself how to hunt. 

It was that day that she had saved his family, and Adrien had never been able to repay that debt.

* * *

On the day of the Reaping, Adrien woke up to the sound of Félix screaming. He made his way over, crouching in front of the twelve-year-old boy. 

“It’s okay, Félix,” He murmured, running his hands through the young boy’s hair, “It’s only your first year, they’re not gonna pick you.” 

His brother looked up at him with tears in his eyes, “But what if they do?” 

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Adrien said gently. “Now why don’t you start getting dressed while I make some breakfast, okay?” 

It was true, Adrien reasoned. The odds of Félix getting his name picked were extremely low. His name was only in the bowl once, as opposed to Adrien’s twenty. Another boy in District Twelve, Luka had his name in forty-two times. Félix was as safe as you could possibly be with his name in the Reaping. 

Adrien mindlessly went about making breakfast; simple bread and cheese from Félix’s goat, while his father helped Félix get dressed. Everyone was expected to wear something nice for the Reaping, even despite the horrific implications of it. District Twelve almost never wins, so having your child Reaped is practically a guarantee that you’ll be watching their death within the coming weeks. 

Once breakfast was served and Adrien had made sure both his father and Félix had eaten, he rushed to pull on a button-up shirt and dress pants. 

_ The Reaping _ , Adrien thought bitterly,  _ where you might be sent to your death, but at least you’ll look pretty.  _

Signing into the Reaping, after comforting Félix one last time, Adrien went to stand in his section. He wished he could have stood next to his brother, but all twelve through eighteen-year-olds were marked off by age group, oldest towards the front and younger in the back. 

He stared ahead mindlessly as the female tribute was called– he tried not to focus on names. Chances are, he would know the person, and that only makes it harder. As always, Clara Nightingale, District Twelve’s escort, called for volunteers, and the crowd remained silent. In a place like District One or Two, people would be jumping over themselves to volunteer– some people spend their whole lives training for the games, but here in Twelve volunteering was nothing short of a death sentence. 

“And now, to the men,” Clara said, dropping her hand into the bowl and fishing around for a second before grabbing one of the cards. She hesitates for a moment, and everything is quiet, then, “Félix Agreste,” 

Adrien inhaled heavily, feeling as though someone had just punched him in the stomach. Félix’s name had been in there once. One slip of paper out of thousands. The odds were entirely in his favor. 

Almost as if underwater, he can vaguely register the crowd muttering unhappily as they always do when someone so young is selected. The youngest winner ever in the games was fourteen. Twelve-year-olds never stand a chance. 

He watches through someone else’s eyes as Félix begins to walk forward, blinking the tears out of his eyes. It was then that Adrien realized unless he did something  _ now _ , he was going to watch his brother die. 

“Félix!” He screamed, “Félix, no!” 

Adrien rushed forward, ignoring the increasing noise of the crowd. He stopped Félix before he reached the stairs, pushing the young boy behind him. “I volunteer!” He choked out, his voice ringing through the now silent square, “I volunteer as tribute!” 

And as he mounts the stage, explaining that yes, that was his brother, and as he is forced to shake hands with the female tribute, he realizes who she is. 

He is going into the arena with the baker’s daughter. 

Before, Adrien could have brushed it off. The arena is filled with other people; it was likely that someone would kill her before she would have to. 

But then again, the odds hadn’t exactly been in Adrien’s favor, lately. 

* * *

Adrien hadn’t even met his stylist, and he already wasn’t very fond of him. Having only just arrived in the Capitol, he had already been hosed down several times, made to smell like pine trees, and had his eyebrows waxed– honestly, what was wrong with his eyebrows? 

After the three members of his prep; all of them rather odd and quite frankly, mildly entertaining– had decided that he was ready for his stylist, they fluttered out of the room. Adrien stood alone for a second, staring at the blank white walls before another man walked into the room. 

He was dressed simply, especially for a stylist– he wore all tailored black clothes and the only makeup on his face was gold eyeliner that accentuated how green his eyes were. 

“Hello, kid. I’m Plagg, your stylist,” 

Adrien raised his eyebrows at how normal the man seemed, “Uhh, hello,” 

Plagg put his hand on Adrien’s shoulder and led him to the sofas on the other side of the room, “So, as you know, the Tribute Parade is coming up, which is why I’m here.” 

“You’re here to make me look pretty,” Adrien said flatly. 

Plagg’s luminescent green eyes lit up as he shook his head, “I’m here to make you memorable. If people remember your outfit, they remember you. If someone rich remembers you, they might sponsor you. Sponsors can keep you alive,”

Raising his eyebrow, Adrien leaned back, “Okay then, you’re here to help me stay alive. But I’m District Twelve. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but coal mining isn’t exactly glamorous.” 

“I know. That’s why we’re not doing that.” 

“What–” 

Plagg grinned, “You do know what people do with coal, right? They  _ burn _ it,” 

A few hours later, Adrien was dressed in what he could guarantee would definitely be memorable. Probably because the entire Capitol would have to watch him burn to death on his chariot, but that’s really just semantics. In an all-black unitard with a cape that looks like flames and a circlet headpiece in similar colors that Plagg planed to light on fire as they exited, it came to Adrien that perhaps Plagg was just trying to kill him before the Games. 

“They aren’t  _ real _ flames, obviously.” Plagg clarified, “Just a simple synthetic flame that Tikki and I came up with.”

Tikki was Marinette’s stylist, who was standing with her prep team over to the right. Adrien had managed to catch a glimpse of Marinette, and their outfits were identical. 

As their two stylists herded them onto the chariot, Adrien turned to whisper in Marinette’s ear, “So what are you thinking about the fire?” 

She shrugged and whispered back to him through a fake smile, “I’ll rip off your cape if you rip off mine,” 

He nodded back at her as the music began and the District One chariot rolled out, the roar of the crowd welcoming him. 

Districts One and Two were nearly always the fan favorites, and so the cheers were expected as they continued out. 

The shouts began to grow quieter once the further districts began to arrive, and as District Eleven began to leave, Plagg and Tikki came over, each with a torch in their hands. 

Before Adrien or Marinette had time to react, their cloaks had been lit on fire, and to Adrien’s surprise, he hadn’t felt anything. 

As their chariot rolled through the doors, he just barely heard Tikki instructing them to hold hands. Marinette clutched his hand tightly as gasps rippled over the crowds. 

Once the shock was over, screams and cheers spread like fire through the stands. Adrien smiled and waved while Marinette milked it for all it was worth. 

She caught roses and blew kisses at the audience, her smile nearly blinding. 

Marinette hadn’t accepted her death yet; she was fighting hard to stay alive. That also meant the baker’s daughter was fighting hard to kill him. 

* * *

When the time for interviews rolled around, Adrien had discovered that the mentor for District Twelve, Fu, was of absolutely no help. 

“No!” He cried, face-palming, “Don’t smile like that, you look like you’re about five words away from killing someone,” 

Adrien pouted, crossing his arms, “Which I’ll have to do in a couple days anyway. What’s the point of pretending I’m so innocent?” 

Fu glared at him, “Well, we’ve tried arrogant, but you can’t pull that off; we’ve tried witty, but all of your jokes are awful; and we’ve tried sexy, but you’re too young to be desirable. I don’t know how we’re going to find an angle that you  _ can _ do,” 

“Do I need to have an angle?” 

“Yes,” The old man sighed in exasperation, “Everyone else will. They’re all playing to their strengths. Apparently, you don’t have any.” 

“Hey!” Adrien exclaimed. “That’s rude!” 

Fu nodded, a smug grin crossing his face, “I know. That’s  _ my _ angle,” 

When Plagg knocked on the door, Adrien nearly collapsed from relief. 

“Time to go, kid. We’ve got to get you dressed and ready,” 

Adrien glanced at the suit, seeing that the cuffs were made from the same fabric as the cape Plagg had set on fire last time, “Please tell me you’re not setting my suit on fire,” 

“I’m not setting your suit on fire,” Plagg said in a monotone voice. “You are.” 

Groaning, Adrien hung his head, “How am I supposed to do this, Plagg. How do I make people like me?” 

Plagg considered this for a moment, pulling the jacket over Adrien’s shoulders, “Well, have you considered not trying?” 

“What?” 

“Just talk to them like you would an old friend,” Plagg suggested as he looked up at the clock, “And it’s time to go. Remember, you’re just talking to an old friend,” 

Adrien nodded before taking his seat in the arc. Every tribute would sit further back on the stage until they were called up front, and then they’d return to their seats. He fidgeted nervously as the Districts went by. Boy, girl, boy, girl, boy, girl, until… 

“Now, Adrien Agreste!” 

He stood up slowly, wiping his hands on his pants before moving to sit next to Nadja, the interviewer. 

“Now Adrien,” She said gently, “Staying in the Capitol must be quite different from your own District Twelve. Can you tell us what your favorite part of being here is?” 

“Is it bad if I say the macarons?” Adrien wondered aloud, before realizing that was quite possibly the stupidest thing he could’ve said. 

It did, however, earn him a few laughs from the audience. 

“Not at all,” Nadja giggled, “I’m rather fond of them too. Now, what can you tell us about your costume for the parade?” 

“Uh, well I thought Plagg was a little crazy, I guess,” Adrien grimaced, “I was pretty sure I was going to die,” 

He saw Plagg roll his eyes as he got a real laugh from the audience. 

“And after that?” 

“I thought it was amazing,” Adrien admitted, “It was definitely memorable,” 

Nadja nodded, “That it was. And are you wearing any fire tonight?”

Adrien nodded as he flicked his wrists, causing the cuffs to light up. 

The crowd ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ before the fire went out and Nadja continued, “Absolutely beautiful. Marvelous job, Plagg. And what can you tell us about your training score? An eleven is highly unusual,” 

Oh right, Adrien had nearly forgotten they would ask about that. But he wasn’t all too eager to reveal the fact that he’d launched a spear at the Gamemaker’s food.

“Umm, I’m not sure I’m supposed to say, but it was, uh, definitely a first,” 

The camera panned to the nodding Gamemakers, some of whom were laughing and some who looked embarrassed. 

“Oh come on,” Nadja prodded, “Details, Adrien!” 

Adrien glanced around uncomfortably, “I really don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it,”

The man who had fallen into the punch bowl called out, “He’s definitely not!” 

“Thanks!” Adrien called back, “Sorry, Nadja, my lips are sealed,” 

She faked a dramatic sigh, “Alright then. Let’s go back to the moment you volunteered. Now, it’s been decades since we’ve had a volunteer from Twelve. Can you tell us what was going through your head?” 

“Well, as I’m sure you all know, that was my little brother, Félix. He’s only twelve, and I love him more than anything. And I’d… I’d do anything for him.” 

Nadja nodded, patting his hand gently, “And did he come to say goodbye to you?” 

“He did,” Adrien nodded, “He asked me to try and win. I promised I would. For him.” 

The buzzer went off and Nadja smiled at him, giving his hand a squeeze before he got up, “And I’m sure you will,” 

Through Adrien’s slightly blurred vision, he could just make out Plagg giving him a thumbs up. 

For the first part of Marinette’s interview, Adrien was still zoned out, but he managed to check back in for the second half. 

“– Now, a young girl as beautiful as you are, you must have some handsome boy waiting for you back home, no?” 

Marinette sighed, “Well, no. I mean, there’s one boy I’ve had a crush on for the longest time. But I don’t think he really noticed me until the Reaping,” 

Some people in the crowd yelled encouragement. Love always gets people sponsors. 

“And does he have a girlfriend?” 

She shook her head, “No. A lot of girls like him, though,” 

“Well, then the plan is simple. You win the games, and when you go home, you ask him out. Surely he won’t turn you down.” 

“I– I don’t think that’ll work,” Marinette said, “Winning… winning isn’t going to help me.” 

“And why not? Everyone loves a victor,” Nadja pressed. 

Marinette’s cheeks were now coated with a light pink blush as she stammered out a response, “Because… he’s the boy who came here with me.” 

Adrien couldn’t help it as his mouth dropped open and a strangled gasp escaped his lips.

* * *

When Lady Wifi’s voice rang through the stadium, Adrien was still in a daze from having to watch Chris die. He was just a little boy, and Adrien couldn’t save him. It was only when he started paying attention to the words bouncing around the arena that he snapped out of it. 

“Due to a rule change this year, two victors will be allowed this year if they are both from the same district. I will repeat, two victors are allowed this year, if and only if, they are from the same district. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor,” 

Only static was heard for a few seconds before the speaker turned off completely. 

Before Adrien could stop himself, he’d scrambled up to a standing position, “Marinette!” 

He quickly clamped his hands over his mouth. Screaming someone’s name would absolutely give away your position. 

But it was  _ Marinette _ . Marinette, his ally, who was injured and lying somewhere. Someplace he needed to find  _ now _ . 

He set up a fire with green wood so there would be excess smoke, hoping other tributes would think he was hiding out near it, when he’d really search for Marinette. 

Adrien wandered over to the stream, walking along it until he found a smear of dried blood. Every few feet, there was another dot or spattering, a ripped piece of fabric. Marinette had to be somewhere around the stream. 

Over by the banks, Adrien sighed in defeat, calling out Marinette’s name quietly. 

“Here to finish me off, Sunshine?” 

The voice was weak, it was almost unheard over the sound of the river, but Adrien’s head snapped up nonetheless. He walked closer to the sound until she spoke up again. 

“Hey now, don’t step on me,” 

Adrien looked down, seeing nothing but the muddy banks against a rock. Then, her blue eyes appeared, blinking open slowly. 

“Marinette?” He knelt down quickly, helping her to sit up. 

She nodded lightly, “I told you decorating cakes would pay off. Frosting cakes; the final defense against dying,” 

“Nope,” Adrien said firmly, “You’re not dying. Did Lila manage to cut you?” 

“Mmmhmm. My left leg, up on my thigh,” 

Adrien’s eyes widened in panic and he quickly washed Marinette off, getting all the mud and caked dirt off her skin and clothes. When Adrien finally managed to put a hand to her forehead, she was burning hot. He quickly rifled through his bad, finding the medicine that reduces fevers that he’s stolen from the boy from District One. 

“Here, swallow these, Mari.” He said gently as she swallowed the medicine without complaint, “Are you hungry? I’ve still got some food,” 

She shook her head, “No. It’s funny, actually. I haven’t been hungry for the past couple days.” 

Adrien shook his head, trying to hand her some of the meat he still had left, but she wrinkled her nose and refused to touch it, “Marinette, come on. You need to eat something.” 

“Don’t wanna,” She said, although he did eventually manage to get her to eat some dried fruit. “Fine, I ate some food. Can I go to sleep now?” 

“Soon, Mar. I promise. I just need to look at your leg first,” Adrien promised. 

Although he’d always been very squeamish, his mother had been a professional healer, so Adrien had picked up a lot of tips and tricks from her. 

Cautiously, Adrien began to remove her shoes, then socks, then her pants. He had known that Lila’s sword could do some damage, but seeing the gash it had left in her pants was different than seeing what had happened to her thigh. He bit down on his tongue to avoid gagging. 

Marinette took one glance at his expression and groaned, “That bad, huh?” 

“Nah, it’s fine,” Adrien lied, waving his hand through, “You should have seen some of the injuries my mom treated.” 

Not that Adrien had seen those injuries either. He’d always left the house when his mom had needed to treat someone. He stared with uncertainty at the injury, “First thing to do is clean it,” 

He washed it off with water again, staring at the first aid kit in his bag, but nothing there was enough for him to treat Marinette. But he did still have some of the leaves that drew out the tracker-jacker venom, so he began to press those against her thigh. 

Marinette, clearly able to tell how disgusted he was, began to talk, “Well I don’t know about you, Adrien, but I’m having a fantastic day.” 

“This is disgusting,” Adrien shuddered, “You’d be better off with Félix right now. He’s way better at healing.” 

“Don’t you go hunting all the time? How do you find this gross?” 

“Killing things is way easier,” Adrien said, “Which I guess, for I all I know could be what I’m doing to you,” 

“Well in that case,” Marinette deadpanned, “Do you think you could speed it up a bit?” 

Adrien rolled his eyes at her, “No. Now shut up and eat your fruit.” 

When Marinette had finished eating what little she could keep down, and Adrien had cleaned and bandaged, he helped her to her feet. 

“Alright, we’re gonna find a place to rest now, okay?” 

Marinette nodded and managed to take a few steps before her left leg collapsed underneath her.

Adrien sighed and picked up, managed to carry her until they found a cage. 

As he knelt to put her down, she grinned up at him and whispered in his ear, “Remember, we’re madly in love, so feel free to kiss me anytime you like,” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Adrien said, shooting her a small grin.

Adrien began preparing the cave and camouflaging the entrance until it was nearly nightfall. 

“Adrien?” Marinette said, propped up against the wall of the cave, “Thank you. For finding me,” 

He shrugged, “You would’ve done the same if you could.” 

“Yes, true. But, listen, if I don’t make it back home–” 

“Which you’re going to,” Adrien interrupted. 

Marinette rolled her eyes at him, “Alright, fine. But hypothetically speaking–” 

“Please,  _ stop _ . You’re going to be fine,” 

“Adrien, we have to at least discuss the possibility–” 

Adrien impulsively leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her lips. Marinette was right, they were supposed to be madly in love, and, well, it just felt right. When he broke away, he gave Marinette the sternest look he could muster with a love-struck grin on his grin, “You’re not dying. I forbid it,”

“Alright then,” She responded, kissing his cheek. 

He stepped outside for a moment to find a parachute– something from Fu. He had hoped for some real medicine to treat Marinette’s leg, but it was broth. As disappointed as he was, broth would be good too. It was an easy food for her to eat, and Adrien couldn’t afford to go hunting anyway. 

The message behind the broth was clear, one kiss equals a bowl of broth. 

Adrien was okay with that. He’d do whatever it took to keep Marinette alive. 

* * *

The Games were supposed to be over by now. Lila had fallen off the Cornucopia and Adrien had delivered the final blow with his spear. But no one had come to pick him and Marinette up. 

That was when the speakers turned back on again. 

“Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision of the rules has been revoked. Only one tribute may leave the arena. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor.” 

The speaker crackled before everything was deathly silent. 

He turned back to Marinette, who’d already flung her knife away and was staring at the spear he’d already aimed at her heart. 

Adrien dropped it to the ground, face burning in shame. 

“No,” She said softly, pressing the weapon back in his hands. “You should do it.” 

“I can’t,” He choked, “I  _ won’t _ ,” 

Marinette started un-bandaging her leg, her blood already seeping into the ground around them. “Well, I can’t kill you. So just do it before those mutts come back. They need a victor, Adrien,” 

He shook his head, “No, they don’t,” Adrien stepped forward, pulling out the nightlock he had in his pocket. 

“Ready?”

She nodded, “Three… Two… One…” 

They raised the berries to their mouths, but the speaker turned on again, and they paused. 

“Stop!” Lady Wifi cried, “Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce the victors of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games, Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste, the star-crossed lovers of District Twelve!” 

They both dropped the berries. 

“Did you eat any?” Adrien asked frantically. 

Marinette shook her head, “No, you?” 

Adrien shook his head as he sighed in relief. They were going to be in serious trouble, but they were alive.  _ Alive _ . 


End file.
